A Natural Solution
by Othnieltcs
Summary: A Hunter helps a Druid track down evidence of a new cult with ties to the Burning Legion.


1

A Natural Solution

The hot desert sun in Tanaris seemed determined to blind me as it reflected off the shiny surface of the dead scorpid. Blind or not, though, I would be well on my way to being one rich Dranei if I could get the armorlike scales of these creatures to the right buyers in Stormwind. I had to give goblins credit: they knew what they were doing when they built a settlement way out here.

Deserts do strange things to you. If you're not careful every dune starts to look the same. Turn around just a few times, forget which direction the sun should be relative to where you want to go, and you would likely never find your way back to Gadgetzan. And even if you've been careful, you still start to doubt yourself, to wonder if perhaps you've got it wrong. And that's exactly what the buzzards circling overhead would like.

"Look at that one, Rodolfo." The sunlight glinted blue off one of the circling buzzards. I'd seen the like in Draenor... Outland, they call what's left of it. Still, blue plumage on a buzzard from this world might be worth something. "Too bad it's to high to shoot, huh?" Rodolfo's only reply was a growl, of course. Rodolfo is my hunting partner. My pet, if you will.

Pet or not, he went bounding off in his own direction once Gadgetzan came into view. Usually he followed me anyway, out of sight. He likes to keep out of sight in crowded areas.

I suppose you're wondering why I never even noticed the large crowd gathered just outside the East wall of the city. What can I say? I had gold on my mind. The gryphon master was being very helpful in arranging passage for me and my scorpid scales until a soft, melodious voice addressed me in the even tones of a night elf.

"I am surprised you are not more curious, Hunter. Most of your people claim to have never seen the like before."

"There are many things in this world I am sure I have never seen the like of, Priestess."

She giggled, genuinely amused. "Priestess? Oh my, the tough man needs to learn how to look before he speaks, I'm afraid."

I turned to find a muscular creature with soft features and bright blue eyes. Her skin was also blue, not with the radiant glow so many of my own people have, but an earthy blue, like a moonlit sky reluctant to surrender light. Long hair - dark blue, of course - fell past her shoulders in an almost careless manner. Her form-fitting leathers seemed designed just to shout at me that she was far more at home in the wilderness than any temple. At least the form they covered distracted me from my embarrassment as she kept talking. "As for things your people have never seen, I was given to understand that hangings fell into a special, morbid category."

If this was a joke, it went straight over my head. Any other time I would be more than willing to indulge in a little flirtation, but there was gold waiting for me in Stormwind. "What could be morbid about decorations?"

Is there anything more humiliating than a female laughing at a joke you completely missed? That kind of joke always turns out to be on you.

"Come with me, Dirgaas. My name is Juraliya, by the way, and I promise it will be worth your time."

I doubted that so strongly, it took me quite a while to wonder how she knew my name.

The wooden platform was simple, but sturdy. The crowd around it erupted with cheers and shouts a few moments before we arrived, and now it began to disperse. I managed to catch sight of one or two of my own people - they all looked rather stunned. One female even looked angry. I could not see what would be so important that could be put upon such a humble-looking platform. A banner? Are the goblins uniting, forming an alliance of their own? Such an event seemed unlikely from what I had come to know about the creatures. They'd put themselves in much too good a position, doing business with both Horde and Alliance merchants, to throw it all away with grandiose posturing. Goblins are strange little things. Foolish even, in some ways, but far from stupid.

Juraliya impatiently darted through the departing throng, and though I had no fear of losing her, I do admit I was annoyed at how easily she slipped through the crowd. Male dranei bodies are simply not built for such maneuvering.

Finally she stopped, and I had a clear view of the platform. Never would I have expected the sight that greeted me - a little green body, swinging back and forth, suspended from its neck by a single strand of rope hung from a wooden beam.

"What is this?"

"An unnecessarily barbaric way of dealing with criminals," Juraliya replied.

"Will they not dispose of the body properly, at least?"

Juraliya's nose crinkled. "Not without reason was it built a good distance from the city proper."

I began to understand the draw this spectacle must have had to the mass of people (mostly goblins) who had been watching. This goblin must have been guilty of some legendary atrocities to deserve such a fate. "What was his crime?" I asked.

"Smuggling."

I glanced at her, and found her bright blue eyes staring as if trying to see through me. So that was how the wind blew. I remained silent, which she clearly expected.

"Any act that could jeopardize the profitability of their trade routs is something that goblins take very seriously indeed."

"I'll make a note of it."

"Although in this case, I think the item being smuggled had much more to do with the speed of his trial than the crime itself." Her gaze turned toward a small plume of smoke rising in the distance, her long brows furrowing. She had me right where she wanted me, and we both knew it. She must have been laughing inside at my surprise when she said, "Be careful of the company you keep in Stormwind."

I must confess that I did not think much on the incident during the trip to Stormwind. Mostly because I did not wish to. And, after a visit to my usual... contact... in the human capital, the gold weighing down my purse all but chased it from my memory completely. The Pig and Whistle tavern sounded to me like the finest place to be in all the worlds in existence just then.

The worst thing about Stormwind is the pigeons. They keep trying to land on the single horn on the top of my head. I have no idea why it looks so comfortable to them - no self respecting bird in the wild would do such a thing. Pigeons, like rats, are not exactly wild anyway. Not exactly tame, either, although this particular pigeon was so persistent I started to wonder. It only went away when I was practically through the tavern doorway.

Inside was a surprise. Rough customers I was expecting - Old Town is a rough part of town, after all. What I was not expecting was just how many of those rough customers turned out to be looking just for me.

"Buy you a drink?" I asked the semi-circle of scowling faces in front of me. Well, that line usually works.

"Upstairs, blue-man." Naturally it was the smallest of them who felt the greatest need to sound tough.

"What, no mention of the horn, hooves or tail? You Humans are becoming far too used to strangers."

"Har har," another of the toughs said, not at all as if he was amused. "Now move." I was tempted to flip up his eyepatch and poke him in the eye, but I saved it for another time and agreeably led the way up the stairs.

Any two of them I probably could have beaten quite soundly without need to catch my breath afterward. But give these Humans credit - they really know how to make overwhelming numbers work in their favor. To this day I am not sure exactly how I ended up in one of the rooms, but they did make sure I was conscious enough to hear the small prospective pirate tell me how little my contact in the city appreciated me leading "snoops" into his shop. I would have wondered what he was talking about if the room had only stopped whirling around me for a moment or two.

I tried to get up, but my legs did not seem to think I was ready for such things yet, so I settled for sitting up against the small bed. Just when my headache started dying down a bit and I began to be hopeful about my chances for survival, what should come fluttering in the window but that damned pigeon! I knew it was the same one because of the bluish tint underneath its wings. Besides, its personality... what? We Hunters just know these things, damn you.

The pigeon flew straight to the floor and exploded. Well, that is what it looked like to my still-fuzzy eyes and dizzy brain, anyway. I glanced over at the door, thinking that those Humans must have hit me harder than I had thought. When I looked back and saw Juraliya standing there, though, that was when I'd had about enough.

"I need a drink," I told her.

Juraliya knows a thing or two about helping a body's recuperation process along. Most Druids do, I'm told (by her). But the dwarves know even more about helping a spirit's recuperation process along. How else do you explain their ale? It is no wonder Draenor tore itself apart when the Alliance armies invaded. To not have been the world in which such a perfect beverage was first conceived...why, it must have broken the poor world's heart.

Juraliya leaned up on the bar, as I already had, but it did not help her look comfortable very much. "You are a hard one to keep track of for a dranei, Dirgaas."

"If I knew you were going to buy me a drink, _I_ would have come looking for _you_!" Despite the charm dripping from my reply, she scowled. "And that's the second time you've used a name I never said was mine."

_Now_ she smiled. "So, you have a brain under that horn after all." Apparently this was all the small talk she was willing to indulge in, though. She leaned uncomfortably close. "What are you hiding?"

I drained the mug of ale and set it down on the bar, nodding to the bartender. He refilled it instantly, good man. So I was the one hiding something, was I? I did not bother to hide my sneer. "Still suspicious of the e-e-evil 'Eredar', are we?"

"No," she replied. "Just of you. You are quite unlike others of your kind I have met. Why so... so...?"

"Worldly?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Not all of us can be Anchors or Vindicators, Juraliya."

"You know that is not what I mean. And traveling with goblins? How did that come about?"

So, she knew. I should not have been surprised, the way she so eagerly had me witness the fate of that traveling companion back in Gadgetzan, but like I said: I had not thought much about it. Still, she was going to have to try harder than this, or open up a little herself, if she wanted any more out of me. "Since when do Druids concern themselves with lone traveling merchants?"

Juraliya stood straight and sighed. "The time for games will soon be past, Hunter. I must know more about that goblin, with your help or without." Her tone said I would not prefer her doing so without my help. Light's mercy, even begging she had to sound like a goddess granting merciful favor with her mere presence! Still, it was a start.

"I am afraid I may not be as helpful as you hope. I ran into the fellow, who called himself 'Jozzle', in Astranaar..."

"Did he say where he had come from?"

"...where he asked me if I was headed to Gadgetzan. He seemed eager enough to make me curious, so I told him I was. He mentioned that his usual companions were headed to Darnassus and Exodar -" here she muttered an oath - "but that he did not wish to wait for them...where are you going?"

"Testing a theory," she said over her shoulder. Then she stopped to toss a fat bag of coins at the bartender. He caught it as if he had known it was coming all along, good man. "This should cover the big one for a while," she said. Then she smiled at me, far too sweetly. "In case you forget who is watching."

She was in the library of Stormwind Keep when I caught up to her. Once I had realized her destination, I had been worried I would have to wait outside, but the guards let me in after only a few simple questions and a stern warning or two.

Her voice was on the edge of panic as I moved through the shelves of books toward her.

"...burned as quickly as you can," she was saying. I turned a corner and saw a young clerk frowning at her, holding a large volume in his hands that seemed to be covered in scorch marks.

"I cannot help objecting to such a course of action, madam Druid, but if what you say is true..."

"Look for yourself, if you must."

Juraliya turned her head when I spoke, but she did not seem especially surprised to see me. "I've heard the objections to civilization in general," I said, "but I did not think even a Druid would resort to book-burning."

The clerk was silent, apparently taking her advice. Juraliya was also, unexpectedly, silent. She studied my face for several long moments.

"You truly do not know," she finally said, seeming relieved.

"The only thing I know," I nearly shouted, "is how smoothly my life was going before you felt the need to interrupt my business in Gadgetzan."

"Yes, well, I had to be sure your business was not mixed up with that of your goblin friend, did I not?"

"So you followed me. And those thugs - your doing as well, yes? You asked the shopkeeper about me and what I sell to him. You lost me the business of my best contact in Stormwind!" Now I _was_ shouting.

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Still not quite as valuable as your life, is it," she hissed at me. "Yes, I visited the fence. I couldn't afford not to. I was hoping the party he would inevitably send your way would be more manageable, but he far overestimated you."

"In his line of work, he cannot afford to do otherwise."

"I could have just let you recover on your own."

"I would not have needed any help recovering from anything if you had not interfered in the first place!"

She threw her hands in the air. "Why I should explain myself to a small-time smuggler, I do not know. You have no idea what you've become entangled in! But, very well - have it your way. Next time you'll probably be beyond my help anyway. Or anyone else's, for that matter."

She strolled out of the room without glancing back, leaving me to wonder if that was her roundabout way of threatening me. On the other hand, at least my only current obstacle to knowing what she was really after seemed to be the fellow in the corner, looking through that book with increasingly wide eyes.

From the outside, the Slaughtered Lamb looked like any other tavern in Stormwind. For a moment, when I stepped inside, I thought I had made a mistake because the place was empty. The scowling bartender made no attempt to soften a glare which silently demanded to know what in all the worlds I thought I was doing there. Then, from the back, I heard raised voices coming from a doorway so cleverly designed you would never notice it if you did not know what to look for.

Those argumentative shouts, though too muffled to make out, told me I had made no mistake. Only one person I had ever met could cause such uproar in a place that was trying to be fairly secret. The passage spiraled downward, and I had not taken more than a few steps before I could hear what was being said quite clearly.

"...lost your mind, girl?! Even if we had anything to do with such tomes, do you think we would tell the likes of you? Barging in here like one of your precious wild animals!"

"No one is accusing anyone of anything," said a familiar, infuriatingly calm voice. A bit cooler than usual though - clearly the way she was being received was not pleasing her. "I just wondered if perhaps a Warlock would know something about..." For perhaps the first time in her life, Juraliya let herself be cut off as I stepped into a large, round chamber at the end of the passageway. All eyes turned to me. There were quite a lot of eyes, some demonic and all less than happy to see me. Juraliya did not even have the good taste to seem surprised.

"Another snoop!" A human directly across from me, apparently the one in charge here, shook his fist to the heavens. Beside him, a gnomish girl (or perhaps woman, it is hard to tell sometimes) with dark, scraggly hair and large green eyes was trying to frown dark disapproval at me, but her eyes shone with excitement. Or perhaps amusement - the frown seemed to be growing quite unstable.

"No," Juraliya smoothly interjected, before the human could continue. "He is here to let me know it is time for me to go."

"A pity, then, that he did not find you _before_ you blundered your way down here."

The Druid ignored the comment, as well as the glares directed her way from the many robed figures in the chamber. She strolled out of the chamber, head held high, hooking her arm into mine as if I were a formal escort.

About halfway back up to the tavern, she snatched her arm back. "Wait here," she snapped at me. Before I could reply, a slightly oversized rat with the faintest tint of blue in her fur was scurrying back down the passageway.

I almost hoped the Warlocks had put wards up against rodents during that interminable wait. Eventually, though, the rat returned and I averted my eyes as Juraliya reassumed her natural form. Not that there was anything improper to see; some sights are just not for mortal eyes. Not if the mortal intends to avoid queazy feelings, anyway. Unfortunately this meant I was a bit startled when she grabbed my arm again and started running up the passageway. "We must hurry," she said.

I struggled to keep up: for creatures without hooves, these night elves know how to run. "Why the rush?" I was not complaining, merely curious.

Her glance at me claimed otherwise. "We cannot let the Warlocks get to him first. They have little respect for life."

That was hardly a shocking revelation, but I wished very much that I knew who this "he" was.

Clear across Stormwind, in the Dwarven District, was where we eventually stopped in front of an ordinary looking dwelling. Juraliya did not even bother to check whether the door was locked, but simply (and quite efficiently) kicked it down. I could not help wondering what the human authorities would think of such druidic behavior, and decided I would be quite happy if I never found out.

Juraliya had crossed an empty room and was peering up a staircase. "Diran Gadgettink!" Her bellow sounded uncomfortably like a beast's roar. "In the name of Cenarius, I place you under arrest for crimes against Nature and aiding the Burning Legion!"

Okay, I should have seen that last part coming. It did not quite explain _everything_, but at least Juraliya's behavior in general suddenly made more sense. A high-pitched cackle answered her announcement. I suppose it was meant to be sinister, but gnomes are at a terrible disadvantage in trying to pull that sort of thing off.

"Did no one tell you," Gadgettink's voice taunted from the top of the stairs, "that Cenarius is dead?"

Juraliya's face paled, and for a moment she seemed ready to forget her own respect for life. But her voice, as always, kept its stately calm. "Your fellow Warlocks are coming for you, Gadgettink. Who would you rather have judge you?"

Finally he appeared into view at the top of the stairs. A small mountain of bright red hair sat atop his head almost like a hat. "Fellows?" He sneered down at us. "Those weakling lackeys of the Alliance? You have no idea what you are dealing with!"

The battered door behind us burst open again, and a glowing, translucent blue..._thing_ entered the room. I was certain it was a demon, but not one I had any knowledge of being involved with the Burning Legion. On its heels came the scraggly-haired Gnomish girl from the Slaughtered Lamb. She and Juraliya stared daggers at each other for a long moment, and I had serious thoughts of evacuating the premises. Then Gadgettink spoke again, and they each directed their hostility toward him.

"Well, well! Glinpur the _Fatherless_! How typical of the Alliance to send children to their certain deaths."

I would not have believed a gnome could growl until I heard the sound coming from the girl's throat at the title Gadgettink had given her. But now I was alerted, and despite Gadgettink's efforts to draw attention to himself, my Hunter's ears did not betray me that day. "In the rooms on either side," I muttered to the women. Even as they both nodded, the doors were shattered as two more specimens of the blue demon joined us in the increasingly crowded room. Behind each was a Warlock covered in red robes. They appeared to be an orc and a human, but any further attempt at identification was blocked by masks and lowered hoods.

"And now," purred Gadgettink, "who are the Hunters and who the Hunted?" He turned to look at me. "Dirgaas, I believe? Yes, I heard all about you from my unfortunate friend Jozzle. It is too bad, really, the company you chose to keep." He turned his smug gaze to Juraliya. "But your Druid friend has stuck her elf-ears into our affairs for the last time."

"You can have the other two," the girl Gadgettink had called Glinpur murmured softly. "But Diran is _mine_." Though she was addressing Juraliya, her green-eyed gaze never left her chosen target. I tried not to shudder - I hadn't noticed until that moment just how cold the girl's eyes were. Juraliya glanced at the human on her left and merely nodded. "Whenever you're ready, Dirgaas," she said just as softly.

Gadgettink was prattling on about the glories of the Dark Titan Sargeras, but I did not see any purpose in waiting. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I heard the orc on my right shouting "Stop the Hunter, you fools," but it was already too late. A loud, clear whistle filled the room, echoing through the building. Barely more than a heartbeat passed before the shattering of glass announced the arrival of Rodolfo.

Anything crashing through a window into the middle of such a tense situation would have made a scene. Rodolfo made everyone in the room stop and stare. The human even cursed and shouted "What is _that?_" Clearly none of them had ever been to Outland.

Rodolfo has only four pointed legs, each ending in a razor sharp claw, spread out in an "X" pattern from his body. A body which looks like nothing more than a very long neck for a head that seems to be all teeth; with narrow, hateful little eyes peering above them. To be brief, he looks very nasty and even more ugly. Rodolfo is a type of insect we Outlanders call "ravagers", and he immediately began demonstrating what an appropriate name it is.

My pet snapped its great jaws at the Orc, and only quick feet made him lose a finger instead of a hand. My crossbow already in my hands, I managed to fire a bolt at his thigh. Then his great blue demon was in front of me, and the next thing I knew I was flat on my back. For a moment I could see a large bear with a hint of blue in its fur behind me, and the gnomish girl swinging her staff at something out of my view. Then I got back to my feet.

Rodolfo growled menacingly at the demon. I say "growled" for lack of a better word: a ravager's voice sounds like some odd mix between a lion and a hyena. Between my sword-thrust and Rodolfo's long leg stabbing into it, the demon was nearly ripped in half. It dissipated in a dark purple cloud of energy, banished back to wherever the Warlock had summoned it from.

The demon had fulfilled its purpose, however. Even as I turned Rodolfo was racing toward a portal the orc had opened. In another moment the only trace of my opponent left in the room was a trail of blood from the wounded hand.

A quick glance told me the others were faring no better than I. Juraliya, still in the form of a bear, was growling at a portal winking out just inches from her nose. Glinpur still had Gadgettink in her sights, both their demons apparently vanquished, but he also opened a portal even as I turned.

"They're getting away," I said, not sure whether to be frustrated or relieved at still being alive.

"Not from me," Glinpur replied, opening her own portal even as Gadgettink's closed. Sparing one last scowl for Juraliya, she too disappeared. I wondered what she would do if they had all ported to the same place, but I confess I was not overly worried about her one way or another.

Juraliya was changing back to her natural form once more, and while it was still far from a pretty sight, at least it was over mercifully quickly. She choked, and coughed several times until I wondered if she was suffering from a Warlock's curse (probably from Glinpur, at that). Finally she spat something out onto the floor - a piece of red cloth. Apparently the human's escape was even more narrow than the others'. She picked up the cloth and was regarding it with great satisfaction when I finally asked, "Do all Druids have a hint of their skin color in their animal forms?"

Juraliya turned to me, genuinely startled. Then she laughed, a deep rich laugh. "Ah, the eagle-eyes of a Hunter! No, dear Dirgaas, I fear you have caught on to a bit of vanity on my part."

"So what now?"

She waved the cloth at me. "Now we see if this can possibly be traced."

"It seems like a rather thin hope..."

"I do not intend to let all my efforts rest on that fool gnome and her lust for violence. Which means this is all we have."

"So...to an alchemist?"

Juraliya tapped her lower lip as she examined the cloth, turning it over in her other hand. Finally she took a small knife from her belt and cut it neatly in half. "Good idea," she said, holding one half out to me. "And I'll consult a tailor." I tried not to think of where the cloth had been as I took it from her.

It did not occur to me, until well after I left the alchemist's shop, to wonder just when that bothersome Druid and I had become "we".

The End


End file.
